


Need

by Lirendil



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: 'cause here we are, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/F, Oral Sex, PWP, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Vaginal Fingering, and wind up with the urge for something with negligible emotional impact, and zero plot?, get tired of feels, that's becoming a trend with me, top!Lena, you ever like
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-06
Updated: 2019-03-06
Packaged: 2019-11-12 20:27:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,178
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18017882
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lirendil/pseuds/Lirendil
Summary: Widowmaker learns that the only thing better than a lovely kill is a little death. Ahem.





	Need

**Author's Note:**

> Definitely influenced by radstickers’ Araignée du Soir, which is a gem. The context is different, but the tone of it was quite… inspiring.

Something is odd.

Lena is standing with pistols by her side, carefully gauging her foe. Widowmaker is trying to bait her into a fight - typical - but whereas usually the sniper prefers her opponent at a distance, this time her rifle isn’t on her. She’s baited Lena out onto a rooftop - also quite common - and yet for some reason, tonight it’s the one right above Lena’s flat.

Hence why Lena is standing here in a shirt and boxers beneath the chronal accelerator she had hastily put on as soon as she had spotted a blinking venom mine stick to her window. Whatever Widowmaker wants, it seems she decided to come all the way over here to get it. Lena isn't sure what _it_ is, but the more she watches, the more she sees that something is most certainly off.

“You gonna tell me why you’re in my part of town, or am I just supposed to guess?”

“I am _bored_.” Widowmaker says it almost angrily, finally shuffling off her coat and throwing it off to the side.

“Talon didn’t give you enough heads to pop off?”

The sardonic joke doesn’t even get a reaction out of Widowmaker. She simply stalks over towards Lena - who instinctively puts up her pistols.

“You want to shoot me?” Widowmaker sounds unimpressed. “Can't you come up with anything more exciting?”

Lena had definitely thought that Widowmaker considered nothing more titillating than a bullet through the head, but she supposes she’s been wrong about things before. “What did you have in mind?”

Widowmaker steps forwards and without warning twirls to aim a high kick towards Lena’s chest. Lena blinks backwards at the last second, barely missing the blow. She narrows her eyes and spins her pistols into their holsters. Alright. She can work with this.

She runs towards Widowmaker, ducks underneath another kick and tries to land her own - only to find her leg grabbed and spun, sending her off of her foot and onto the concrete. A grunt escapes with the wind knocked out of her, but she manages to roll away just before Widowmaker dives to pin her to the ground. She bounces back up, catching her breath as she looks down at Widowmaker whose eyes are gleaming with the reassessment of her prey. Slowly, Widowmaker rises, Lena dancing on the balls of her feet as she waits for another engagement. The adrenaline rush reminds Lena she can’t quite judge Widow for a craving like this. Not when she likes it this much too.

And so the dance continues.

As flighty as Lena’s thoughts can be, she is quite good at reading her opponent in the midst of battle. She swings and blocks, trying to decipher the mystery that is Widowmaker right now. Her movement is crisp yet more erratic than usual, her signature smooth, reserved energy exchanged for something less controlled. The blows have an agitation behind them that doesn’t feel like anger, however. They are firm, not brutal, so it would seem that Lena isn’t the source of Widowmaker’s discontent for once.

After briefly knocking Widowmaker down, she gets shoved off and backs away for a pause. Widowmaker looks like she could get red in the face from the frustration on it. “What's got you all hot and bothered? Seems like more than just your day being a little dull.”

Widowmaker jumps back onto her feet. “I am not _hot_.” She says it as though she's offended.

“Just an expression, love, don’t get your knickers in a twist.” Widowmaker looks at her oddly there and Lena wonders if she took that literally as well which would sound strange considering with that outfit she probably doesn’t even-

Ohh, no. No, Lena is not going to finish that thought.

Of course, in the meantime, Widowmaker had decided to re-engage and Lena is caught off-guard when a kick hits her side, making her stumble awkwardly to her knees. She looks up with a frown at Widowmaker - who looks far too satisfied at her expense - and decides she’s tired of all of these unanswered questions. She's not going to let herself get knocked around like this for nothing.

She gets to her feet and puts her hands on her hips. “Alright, cut to the chase. What are you doing here harassing me in the middle of the night?”  A hand catches her chronal accelerator before she can put enough distance between the two of them.

“And what are you doing here indulging me? Your adorable little Overwatch missions not satisfying your own cravings?”

There’s a smug smile on her face that Lena would do just about anything to wipe off right now. She raises her arms and puts both them and her upper body into trying to shove Widowmaker backwards so she can be free of the grip on her harness.

But Widowmaker doesn't anticipate the momentum from pulling her back in and fails to let go of her in time to stop them both tumbling down. Lena lands mostly atop her with one hand on her knee and the other on the concrete in an attempt to not squish the spider beneath her clunky device. Widowmaker has clearly tried to avoid the same, her hands around Lena’s shoulders.

Lena didn’t mean to fall on top of her quite like this and prepares to get back up… but Widowmaker’s face has dropped the smirk and she seems distracted by something. Something that doesn’t appear to be the immediate urge to punch her. Odd, that.

“What?” Widowmaker just looks away - at nothing, it seems, as Lena tries to follow her gaze. “You leave the kettle on or something?” Lena tries to disentangle her legs from Widow’s, leaning further forward to regain some sort of balance - and she winds up at perfect eye level to catch the movement of Widow’s throat as she swallows… nervously?

With not a small amount of surprise, Lena realises it must be the proximity that is making Widowmaker uncomfortable. Or, not so much uncomfortable as… unsettled. Lena shifts again and Widowmaker’s breath catches, but she makes no attempt to push Lena away.

That makes some curious questions come to mind. It finally occurs to her that their positions are rather compromising - not that this had ever been a problem in the past. It would be mad to think that anything… _physical_ could give Widowmaker pause; Lena knows her uniform is little more than a honey trap.

But the night has already been strange enough, and so the thought can’t be banished. Widowmaker still isn’t moving and Lena, fascinated by this wild glimmer of possibility, decides to try something a little stupid. She moves the hand on Widowmaker’s knee, splaying it as it slides up her thigh a little, then pauses as though to help herself push off. But she stays there. And now Widowmaker’s breath is a bit shaky.

Blimey. Not such a tiny glimmer after all.

So perhaps this is the thing that Lena has been noticing: the aggressive energy to her that seems a little more passionate than usual. Widowmaker had long enjoyed their skirmishes - now even more so perhaps, but this time it was culminating into… something different?

Not taking her eyes off of Widowmaker, Lena decides to shift again. She still has a knee between Widow’s and moves it up the slightest bit…

Widowmaker lets out a slightly breathless noise, hands tightening around Lena’s shoulders.

Lena would have easily wagered that Widowmaker figuratively got off on their battles, but maybe - _maybe_ \- it is a bit more literal this time. The thought is a bit of a thrill. Widowmaker feeling something so helplessly base is a revelation that Lena is certain very few, if any, could claim knowledge of.

But to do something about it? Lena can’t decide and so she remains frozen. Widowmaker is stock still herself, holding Lena’s eyes in a wide stare. One wrong move and this fragile, dangerous moment collapses. Lena has to admit to herself that she rather doesn’t want it to. She has always vaguely wondered whether she could get through Widowmaker’s cold facade, whether there was anything other than the need to kill buried inside her… and now it seems there is.

Of course, given what said ‘other’ need happens to be, it would be absolutely insane to take advantage of that. To let her touches wander just to elicit a reaction. To put lips to that cool skin to see how far she can push this desire, how much she can stoke that heat inside her. She wonders whether something would snap and Widowmaker would want to take control for herself, or if she would be too overcome with sensation to do anything but lie there and take it.

Lena blinks back to reality and finds she is staring at Widowmaker who is staring back with pupils far too dilated to do nothing about.

Perhaps the decision is already made.

The figure before her is no longer an enemy. She is simply a woman in want and the fire in the pit of Lena’s stomach reminds her just how much she really, _really_ enjoys sating that sort of thing. Widowmaker hasn’t even tried to move, which Lena takes as a good sign considering she must be looking down with a very clear intention by now.

But ensuring it is best.

“I can help you.” Widowmaker says nothing and Lena can tell she’s struggling with the idea of admitting anything. “I’m not going any further until you say you want me to.”

Lena gets a slight growl in response. She sighs and does in fact push herself up this time, extending her hand to the woman on the ground. Widowmaker looks almost worried now.

“Coming with me means saying yes.” Clearly, the space now between them has cleared Widow’s mind a bit as she hesitates. “I'll take care of you,” Lena says more softly. An assurance. She’s probably the only one who can and she’s pretty sure they are both aware of that.

She gets a cool hand in hers in reply and feels victorious as Widow rises.

The trip down the stairwell to the flat is a nervous blur. Lena’s heart races as she lets go of Widow’s hand to fumble with the lock, half worried of Widow running away, half panicking at the alternative. The sudden return to the mundane makes things feel intimidating, yet still she has the compulsion to keep pushing forward headlong into this. The lock tumbles open, the door swings wide, and Lena steps inside.

Widowmaker follows and closes the door behind her.

No turning back now.

Lena unhooks her chronal accelerator and to her surprise, Widow hastily helps her pull it off and deposits it by the door. It is an impatient move, but perhaps also an anxious one.

She grasps Widow’s hand again to lead her through the darkness into the bedroom faintly lit by the streetlight through the window. Here, she pauses, considering her options. She could rush past the nerves and take Widow then and there - she might not get any complaints - but it feels cheap. She hasn't brought the spider into her lair to not milk all she can out of it. Turning around, she finds Widowmaker staring down at her, almost deathly still. There are words she could say, things she could ask, but Lena decides she'd rather feel her way through this for now.

The hand in Lena’s makes no resistance as it’s pulled up to her lips, hot against the cold of those fingertips. Widowmaker seems to not have expected such a simple, even tender action at this point, although she might not know what to expect at all. All the more reason to treat this quite carefully. Neither of them are used to touches between them being anything close to delicate or kind, and Lena suspects that the willing side of Widow is still wary. Lena needs to find out just how far Widowmaker is willing to trust her.

Carefully, she pulls on Widowmaker’s hand again, backing up towards the bed. Widowmaker follows slowly. Lena stops as she feels it behind her legs then sits down, scooting back to clear an inviting space before her. Widowmaker seems unsure of what Lena is planning exactly, but she climbs on nonetheless.

Reassured, Lena lets go of Widow’s hand. She removes her gauntlet, revealing a smooth, tattooed forearm, then places it on the nightstand. Next is her shoulder pad, the long lines of her neck temptingly close although Lena manages to resist for the moment. She leaves the visor for last, carefully pulling it off so as not to snag any dark, glistening hair. Lena looks upon her now, the spider so close and yet hardly a spider at all anymore. Instead, very much a human whose golden eyes beneath stray bangs have lost their intimidation and may in fact err on the side of vulnerable. Lena can work with this.

She places her hand on Widow's shoulder in an encouragement to turn around, she herself shifting to sit behind her. Her posture is still guarded so Lena is careful as she pushes the long ponytail over her shoulder to reveal the expanse of her back in all its glory.

She begins with only a feather-light touch down Widow's spine, drawing a shiver. She then takes her arms with a more confident grip, smoothing down and back up, lingering along her neck. She dips her head to Widow’s shoulder as her hands return to her back, soothingly rubbing tense muscles. Lena’s nose brushes against her ear, breath warm across her jaw… but she doesn’t go further just yet. She waits there, observing. Widow’s shoulders relax. Her head tilts the slightest bit away, her neck exposed in invitation. Lena finds herself exhaling in relief.

At last, her lips press against cool skin, gentle kisses beginning at Widow’s shoulder and inching up to her ear. The flesh beneath is so supple, so tender, and Lena can’t resist taking it into her mouth, letting her tongue stroke and taste what she has been allowed to consume. Widow’s breath hitches and her body sinks backwards. Lena senses the change and pulls away to let Widow fall against her, then guide her to lay back against the bed.

Lena can’t help but allow herself another moment of satisfaction. She has gotten this right so far and she’ll be damned if she messes anything up now. She pushes Widow’s hair away from her face as she returns a hand to her shoulder. Widow’s eyelids are heavy. She certainly wants Lena to continue what she started.

But Lena pauses to consider her next move. It is one thing, she knows, to wind up in someone’s bed for a night and quickly indulge an urge like this. It is another to tentatively explore, draw it out, treat it as though it matters, even if it won’t in the morning. Lena’s mind has already accepted that her mouth and fingers will soon know very much of Widow’s body…

And yet her eyes are stuck on the pair of purple lips below her because somehow the idea of having sex with Widowmaker isn’t even as far-fetched as _kissing_ her. There is an expectation of reciprocation in a kiss, a desire to give as well as accept such an affectionate touch, and Lena has no idea whether such contact really does anything for her, or if it would feel too personal. But she already has Widow in her grasp, and decides that things are already unbelievable enough that she should give it a try.

Lena lowers her chest to hover above Widow’s, bracing her forearm by pooling hair. She takes a breath then tilts her head slightly, leaning in to plant a light, brief kiss on Widow’s mouth. Gathering a bit more courage, she takes Widow’s lower lip between hers and pulls gently, sliding her fingers up to a smooth cheek and caressing softly.

For a moment, Widowmaker doesn’t respond… but then her lips loosen, allowing themselves to be taken, then beginning to meet Lena halfway. Lena finds her heart in her throat as the kisses grow deeper, more needy. She is glad that this is doing something for Widowmaker, because it’s certainly doing something for her.

By the time Widow’s hand comes up to the back of her head, the other around her waist, Lena feels she can afford her next step. She swings a leg over Widow to straddle her hips and grant herself a better angle to sweep into her mouth. She wants all that she can get from Widow, finally so close to achieving what had crossed her mind while in this same position on the roof.

She begins to stray from swollen lips, trailing down to tease Widow’s neck from a new angle. She tries to be careful, not sure just how sensitive those blood vessels might be, but the softness is so terribly addicting. She allows her tongue to trace the skin in the hollow of her throat and feels nails scrape across her scalp in response. Widow shifts beneath her and Lena securely grasps her hip, daring to extend her fingers a bit further towards the curve of her ass. It is perhaps a bit of a possessive touch, but Lena feels no shame. At this point, she wants this just as much as Widow whose hand is also descending into that dangerous territory to pull Lena closer.

Lena shifts again so that she can slip a thigh between Widow’s and presses teasingly against her. She receives a groan in response. The sound makes her heady. She repeats her action, this time paired with a graze of teeth against Widow’s throat. Lena feels the rumble of pleasure there and it fills her with warmth. If they weren’t in such a convenient location, Lena can imagine themselves getting this far anywhere vaguely secluded, taking Widow’s hips and making her moan, making her come from a desperate grind against Lena’s thigh. She wonders exactly how thin the fabric of her suit is, because even now she is being met with little gasps from the friction.

But they _are_ in such a convenient location at the moment, and so Lena knows she has the means to make it far, far better.

She moves her leg away, to a harsh sigh of dismay in reply. But she wants to see more of Widowmaker now; as much as her outfit reveals, it isn’t nearly enough for a case like this. She reaches for the collar, slowly pulling it apart and away from her neck. Widowmaker lifts her torso slightly and rolls her shoulders to help Lena remove the fabric over them and pull her arms from their confines. For the moment, the suit stays pooled at her stomach.

Lena’s eyes sweep across the skin newly revealed to her, tracing the artful lines of her collarbone, taking in the smooth expanse of her bare chest and finishing on the slope of her breasts generously tipped in deep blue. She allows her fingers to brush over the sensitive flesh, drawing slow, teasing circles as she lowers her mouth to Widow’s neck once again. Wet, open kisses trail down to her other breast, and then her nipple is taken by Lena’s lips as the first becomes subject to more deliberate rolls and pulls. Widowmaker takes a sharp breath and her hand returns to the back of Lena’s head, keeping her there in a hold that is firm and yet not forceful. She is more than letting Lena take charge here, and that knowledge is terribly satisfying.

A gentle pull on her nipple by Lena’s teeth elicits a small cry. Lena looks up at her closed eyes, face turned into the arm by her head. Lena dares to try the same on her other breast and she receives a longer whine in reply. Clearly she isn't complaining about it, but Lena doesn't want to frustrate her too much yet. Not when she has other places to thoroughly tease.

Lena’s tongue returns to gentle stroking and then her lips move slowly down Widow’s sternum, leaving kisses over her abdomen. She reaches where the suit has remained at her hips and then pulls away. Widow looks down at her with a frown but Lena glides back up to meet her lips before she can see the tiny glimmer of amusement on Lena’s face. Widow puts quite the aggression into the kiss this time though, clearly aware of the stall Lena is trying to pull off. Her hand grasps blindly at Lena’s shirt and presses against her breast, the thin fabric leaving her essentially exposed to the touch. Lena gasps at the unexpected sensation. She hadn't realized just how worked up she is as well, but Widow has certainly gotten her point across.

Lena moves down again and sits back to get a grip around the fabric at Widow’s stomach, hips rising to allow it to be pulled down her thighs. She catches sight of a bead of wetness stretching down with the inner lining from the small tuft of hair between Widow’s legs. Lena bites back a groan. The physical betrayal of need makes her feel at once so wonderfully powerful yet so horribly weak. She wants to bury herself inside Widowmaker, feel her, taste her, lose all control and take her to the edge…

She forces herself to take a deep breath. Even if her body looks ready, it doesn’t mean Widowmaker mentally is, and the last thing Lena wants right now is to hurt her. Lena has been quietly trusted to take care of her, and that is exactly what she is going to do.

Widow’s suit off, Lena settles herself between her thighs and, for the moment, merely caresses the soft, cool skin. She smoothes over hips and sides and stomach and back down again, feeling the muscles relax beneath her touch. It’s a good sign that a gentle push to open a thigh is met with no resistance, a kiss on an inner knee rewarded with a hand in Lena’s hair again. If she were to indulge herself the slightest bit of fantasy, she would admit that it’s a sensation that she could get used to.

Lena leaves one last kiss and then looks up at Widow's face. “I'll start off slow, yeah, love?”

Widowmaker hums agreement.

Lena decides to let her lips wander a little to see just what might make her spider tick. She receives no reaction as she travels up until she reaches the crease of a thigh. Laving attention on the tender skin brings out a sigh that Lena suspects will soon be a little desperate. Indeed it doesn’t take long before Widow’s chest is heaving with breaths in a vain effort to calm herself.

Lena pulls away slightly and finally prepares to turn her attention inwards. She brings up a hand and ever so slightly brushes against Widow's folds in the barest touch. It provokes a shaking breath, Widow's hand covering her eyes for a moment before returning to the bed. Lena repeats the action slowly, and then again, until Widow accustoms herself to it and calms. Lena then pushes a finger the slightest bit between her folds until she elicits another gasp then slides up, just avoiding her clit before pulling away again.

Lena relishes in the frustrated breaths that grow ever louder when she retreats to the skin of her outer lips, so close and yet so far from where Widowmaker needs her the most. She strokes along dark hair, periodically allowing grazes against sensitive flesh and every touch only quickens Widow’s breathing, her hips beginning to squirm. Lena can tell she wants to squeeze her thighs together but is resisting the urge with a firm bite down on her lip.

At this point, Lena can't resist indulging herself. She returns between Widow's lips and slides down into impossibly wet warmth. Widowmaker moans as she presses into her, hardly a fingertip inside her, before pulling out. Her voice chokes a little. She must feel how slick she is, must know how she must look to Lena who is very much enjoying seeing the evidence of desperation on her finger. Lena can't help playing with her, feeling her again and then slowly sliding up, covering her with her arousal, ending at her swollen clit.

“ _Lena_!”

That makes Lena freeze in surprise as she pulls away. She never would have dreamed of hearing her name on Widow's breathy lips - her given name no less - and her brain blanks for a second.

But Widow is still breathing so harshly, hand fisted in the sheets, that it brings her back to the present. She has stopped short of a _please_ but Lena can read it in her body. The skin between her legs glimmers with sweat. Her sex is engorged with heat. Lena has to admit that teasing her any more than this would be borderline cruel. And she isn't in the mood for that tonight.

Lena dips her head down and extends her tongue to gently brush against blue inner lips. A shiver rips through Widow’s body. Lena pushes her tongue in and licks up the length of her, passing over her hard nub. Widowmaker lets out a moan that sounds almost like the beginnings of a sob. Lena hums in sympathy.

She brings her hands up to hold Widow’s folds apart as her tongue finds entrance now, tasting an abundant slick tang that's almost as satisfying as the sound it draws from Widow’s throat. Her hips move against Lena’s mouth now who is content to let her grind herself down for a bit, seeking the faintest relief. But Lena feels the way Widow is desperately clenching around so little, and understands she needs more.

Carefully, Lena slides a finger inside her, met with little resistance and a drawn-out whine. She feels a bit tight, but she's certainly wet enough to accept more so Lena adds another, feeling Widow stretch and pulse around her. The slightest movement elicits a gasp. Lena waits a moment, letting Widow adjust to the sensation. When she hears breaths even out, she returns her tongue to its task while beginning small thrusts with her hand. It doesn’t take long for Widowmaker to lose her tenuous composure and begin to all but fall apart, her sharp breaths and whimpers going straight to Lena’s own lust as she devours Widow in her intoxicating scent and taste. Lena could get off with nothing but this, and if she isn’t careful, she thinks she just might.

Lena’s fingers sink deeper and more firmly now, trying to draw Widow to her peak before she reaches her own. The feel of Widow’s pleasure filling her mouth, dripping down her chin… the sound of it as her hand pumps in and out and draws such desperate moans… Lena doesn’t know how long she’s going to last. She picks up her pace, holding Widow’s hips steady as she feels them begin to twitch. She passes her tongue over Widow once more before closing her lips around Widow’s clit and sucking.

Widow tenses. Her back arches.

And then she comes with the loveliest cry.

Lena strokes her through her pleasure, the hand in Lena’s hair painfully tight, but she would never be one to complain. She draws all that she can from Widow’s body until the tremors stop and moans dissolve into exhausted sighs.

Lena sits back on her heels, licking her fingers clean. She looks down at Widow, her dark hair starkly strewn across the white pillow beneath her head, her face tilted away as her open mouth still catches breaths. She’s never seen Widow visibly perspire but there is the slightest sheen on her forehead, catching the light from the street. She looks so spent with her hands above her head where they clutched the pillow, her chest still open and vulnerable. Lena wants to memorise this moment because she may well never see it again.

A hand lifts and reaches for Lena’s shirt, pulling her forward. Lena catches herself with her own hands now by Widow’s head, motionless as she meets Widow’s half-lidded eyes.

And then a leg lifts between hers to press against her firmly, Widow taking her hips and grinding her down.

Lena lets out a pitifully uncontrollable cry at her own unexpected spike of pleasure now pushing her over the edge before she can even think. Her eyes squeeze shut and her hips thrust a few times of their own volition through the waves of release. She only manages to gasp a breath when they begin to abate and her muscles unclench shakily. But it is a bit of a laugh that she lets out as the last of her shudders ripple through her. Despite her earlier fantasy, it is her who finds the sweetest relief against a helpful thigh. Fair enough.

Finally, she moves to the side and practically collapses onto the bed, settling herself against Widowmaker. Both their respirations gradually slow, ease, until they just about sound back to normal. Lena turns a bit to soothingly stroke through her hair.

“You really needed that, didn’t you, love?” Lena’s voice is kind.

After another sigh, Widowmaker rolls her head to face Lena point-blank. “Why did you do this for me?”

It is a good question, really. One Lena isn’t sure how to answer. “I guess… I just wanted to help.” She gets what sounds like a snort in response.

“You help most people like this?”

“Eh… only a couple of exceptions.”

“So how did I become an exception?”

“How’d I wind up the person you were hoping would help?”

Widowmaker narrows her eyes at her. Lena smirks at successfully guessing that at least somewhere in Widow’s mind, she had intentionally come here seeking this.

“I figured you would have enough experience to be good at it,” she admits in a mutter.

The grin widens. “And was I?” Lena’s hand moves from Widow’s hair to gently caress her cheek. Widow’s face is still relaxed and so Lena leans in again to indulge herself with one more kiss. She gets a soft, willing response, and it’s more than enough reward.

Widowmaker sounds sleepy when they pull apart. “It will do.”

Definitely more than enough reward.

Widowmaker buries her face into Lena’s neck and sighs against her skin. “I am only doing this because of the endorphins.”

Lena smiles again. “I know.”

“I still hate you.” Her voice is a half-conscious mumble.

“Mmhmm.”

And then there is nothing but the serene breathing of sleep.

Lena decides it doesn’t really matter if halfway to the morning, Widowmaker disentangles herself and leaves. It’s alright if the next two or five or dozen times they meet, Widowmaker doesn’t speak a word of this. Because Lena knows what can be behind her cold facade now, and Widowmaker knows that Lena accepts it. If she decides that she wants to feel again, she knows where to go.

And that's all Lena needs.

**Author's Note:**

> This is, obviously, a very physical take on these two, especially so because while it could be read as romantic, that isn’t how I wrote this. I intended for some emotions to be involved but it’s more as a sort of lusty friends-(enemies? Frenemies?)-with-benefits deal than anything else. I love them in a romantic setting, but in my experience, a relationship doesn’t have to be classically romantic to matter.


End file.
